Vampire The Masquerade RPG
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The Times
The Kindred Chronicle
Key Figures
THE MONSTER OF EALING
Last night, several people reported the sighting of a "screaming red monster" in a quiet neighbourhood of Ealing. After a power shortage in the area, a building caught fire. It was then when, what was described as a "man shaped, footless creature" emerged from the flames, leaping, running, and screaming. One woman has told our reporters that the man had "teeth like a wolf, and the face of the devil". Police officers are still trying to get to the bottom of this; neither the power shortage nor the fire have still been explained. A spokesperson from Scotland Yard has stated that the "so called monster" might be a wounded person, escaping the fire.

TRAGEDY IN TOOLEY STREET
The police has found the bodies of three TFL workers in the construction site at Tooley Street. One of their colleagues raised the alarms last week, when the three workers didn't attend their shifts. The bodies of the men have been found in a deep hole, uncovered by the refurbishment works that are taking place in the area. According to the Police, the bodies were horribly mutilated, which has led to the wildest speculations. The names of the three workers are being kept anonymous, following the wishes of their families.

HOROSCOPE
MARCH 8 - PISCES
You are used to making sacrifices, to prioritising the happiness of others before yours. Even though that is a noble attitude, there are times in life where the only healthy alternative is to embrace your own selfishness and allow yourself some enjoyment. Reserve one hour per day to do something you really like. Treat yourself! Your colour for this month is blue.
Echoes from the past ring back into London. Their intensity increases until they are deafening. What once was a faded memory of a glorious time, now becomes a shocking reality. The consequences of actions taken decades ago ripple into the present, altering the lives of everybody in the City. Unguided and blind, Kindred wander around, trying to make profit out of the reigning chaos.


The appearance of four mysterious figures turned the city upside down. Mistrust and jealousy became the official currency of London. Serpents and fiends rise to power, misdirecting the blaming eyes of the Camarilla towards imaginary enemies. Only those with clear vision and the ability to trust each other strive, while the rest run towards a shallow grave.



Across The Board
Current Chronicle: Dragons and Lions; Pride and Fire
Current Season: Spring
Controlling Sect: Camarilla



Index
Getting Started
General Information
Central London
North London
East London
West London
South London
Miscellaneous
Out of Character


Population: 31

Camarilla
Anarchs
Other
Ventrue: 1
Toreador: 5 (6)
Brujah: 2 (3)
Malkavian: 7
Tremere: 2
Nosferatu: 3
Gangrel: 1
Ventrue: 1
Toreador: 0
Brujah: 2 (3)
Malkavian: 0
Nosferatu: 1
Gangrel: 1
Setites: 5
Sabbat: ???


THE CAMARILLA

Prince

Nobody

Sheriff
Meredith Furlong
Hounds
Robyne Sheridan
Rosella Marie Allain


Keeper of Elysium
Davvad Bisset

Grand Harpy
Catherine Wilke

Primogen
Ventrue: Marcus Antonio Russo
Brujah: Thomas Krusen
Gangrel: Alexa Mallik
Malkavian: Ellora Reese
Tremere: Hannah Sundling
Toreador: Arsenio Pozzi
Nosferatu: Dogan Khojak



ANARCHS

Baron

Khoza

Baronets
Enfield: Leslie
Haringey & Barnet: Clarice Harris
Harrow: Jelena Korolenko

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Welcome To The Night

You find yourself in London on a dreary, foggy night like any other. But what lurks in the shadows is the stuff of fantasies and nightmares, far from mortal reality.

This game uses the cursed and immortal vampiric condition as a backdrop to explore themes of morality, depravity, the human condition, salvation, and personal horror. We are a writing and roleplaying community dedicated to telling complex and engaging stories.

Your fate is your own. Mingle among the ivory-tower elite in the Camarilla, join the fight of the discontented and chaotic Anarch rabble, or set out independently and attempt to survive in London's nighttime underworld. Anything is possible in our World of Darkness.

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[ARCHIVED] - MiniQuest™: Into The Ruins; Leola Cira Mancini, Pádraig ó Dubhuir, Sawyer Flint
Topic Started: Saturday, 10. August 2013, 00:05 (3,653 Views)
Alarik
"Papers, Please."
* * * * * * *
The rendezvous had been set to occur at the midpoint between utter ruin and mindless self-indulgence. To the north lay the officially designated disaster area, where ruined buildings, abandoned possessions, feral animals and hopeless people had been neatly cordoned off from the rest of London by miles and miles of blue-and-white tape, repeating POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS over and over again. The disaster area was thus neatly compartmentalised, like a festering sore that had been covered up to give the appearance of good health.

To the south lay the riverbank and its pleasures. Though hundreds had died, millions of London kine still wanted to indulge their sinful natures on this cool summer night. Lovers walked along the embankment and people ate and drank in the open air, often to the accompaniment of music. The cause of the freak earthquake was the talk of the day, and every man now fancied himself an expert while repeating the talking points that had been going around on the news and on social media. Fracking was to blame, or so many Londoners had come to think.

There were good reasons to keep these people away from the disaster area. Damaged gas conduits might explode, and damage to the electricity meant that the entire neighbourhood would soon be cloaked in utter darkness. Abandoned pets had begun to fend for themselves, often dying, sometimes going wild and staking out territories of their own. The people were arguably worse: the line between disaster tourists and looters was thin indeed. Some of the people who snuck into the zone just brought some memento along with their pictures and video footage. Others thought it appropriate to claim the properties of people who 'wouldn't need them any more'. They looked the same, anyway, as the people who had lived in the neighbourhood, and were now being forcibly resettled.

The section of Portugal Street that lay beside the British Library of Political and Economic Science was a tranquil mid-point. The black Ford Focus with its darkened windows had been parked in the stately neighbourhood that bordered the London School of Economics. Summer recess had left the place almost as derelict as the ruins to the north, though this kind of abandonment at least bore the veneer of civilisation. The three people who approached the small car were thus easily marked out from the occasional overworked PhD student that might rush past, using the holidays to catch up on some actual work.

The key to the vehicle had been delivered in person to Sawyer Flint, who had been given the names of the other two operatives who had volunteered for this mission. The same courtesy had been extended to Pádraig ó Dubhuir and Leola Cira Mancini, though sans key. It was 21:20, the sun had been down for less than an hour, and they were supposed to find their way past the bobbies guarding the police line in ten minutes.
Edited by Alarik, Saturday, 10. August 2013, 00:37.
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Sawyer
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Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
* * * * * *
Whoever the man had been, he must've looked for shelter in the ruined apartment building. Must've thought it was a safe place to sleep for the night, that nothing worse was lurking in the gutted skeleton of Camden. He had been wrong. And the predator that had found him hadn't exactly been a fan of subtlety, judging from the sheer amount of blood and the sickening angles of the man's broken body. Overkill, vicious overkill. That didn't bode well.

The mouse sniffed around the corpse, nose twitching as he looked for signs of whomever had left their meal behind. Nothing. Damn it. By now, the kindred must be stalking them. The mouse's heart beat frantically as he thought of the shadows around the car, the flash of something alive in the rubble-

Sawyer's eyes snapped open as he released his hold on the animal. His voice was quick, even, with an authoritative edge. "We've got company. Apartment building, a block over to the left. Fresh blood, still warm. Interrupted some asshole's meal. Must've heard us. They're comin' our way."

He glanced at the Tremere in the backseat, his skeletal face impassive and jaw clenched. "Get ready for a fight, Doc. Whoever it is, they ain't friendly. And they sure as hell don't want us here."

Sawyer picked the box of rodents up from the floorboards, letting a larger, brown mouse nibble on his finger. He looked out into the darkness beyond the car, eyes scanning for any sign of an enemy. He wanted to be sure that no nasty surprises would come his way if he slipped into a mouse again. Sitting in a torpor-like trance, he was helpless if the trio was attacked. Still, he realized the necessity of eyes in the dark, however little he liked it. He'd prefer to take the fight to the enemy, not skulk in the shadows. But whatever had to be done, he'd do...

Scowling, he cupped the second mouse in his palms as it frantically tried to escape. Sawyer's eyes bore into the empty black gaze of the mouse, and for a second time, he clawed his way into its mind with brutal force.

He hopped to the pavement, scampering back into the black ruins, hoping that Leo and O'Dubhuir could handle whatever came their way on their own.
Edited by Sawyer, Monday, 26. August 2013, 19:08.
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Frederick
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* * * *
>> Hey little guy << An eyebrow raised itself as the Irishman looked with a slight amount of bafflement upon the Nosferatu Neonate in the front seat.

>> Ain't you cute with that little twitchy nose << American. This was so very american, his mind said in an excercise of diverting his attention to more inconspicuous matters. Improper grammar. Wrong contractions. And the fact that he is talking to a rodent. "Please let the... animal." Nasty little pest. "... go, Mr. Sawyer." He would interject before Sawyer actually let the thing go out. So much for that. And so much better. Mice eat paper after all. They were dngerous to literature as they were to people. Nasty little things carrying all kinds of germs. To say he was disgusted by the other Neonates conduct might have been slightly understated. Then again Nosferatu lived inside the sewers. There were even bigger nasties there - rats... let us not think about that.

The question of the Toreador was answered by a very decrepitating smile. "Driving is not an option for me, Ms. Manchini. I never quite... got the hang of it." Better use colloquialisms. People might think you were a stuffy academic otherwise. But the words came out slightly wrong with his High Oxford accent. More an attempt at leisurely diversion than the actual thing. He listened impassively to everything else that transpired. Finally he had, apparently, decided on a course of action.

He made his way outisde, closing the car door behind him with much finesse -- it nearly made no sound at all. "They might come..." he said, his voice a proper whisper for his companions... "from above us. I believe I may have heard someone jumping." All nicely proper sentences. All spoken in his unhurried way. Was he not worried? It seemed not to be the case.

As Sawyer spoke of having found a body, his eyes lightened with... curiosity? I had to be for his eyes to show that glimmer. His boots shuffled on the rubble-strewn ground, making a few crunching noises, overloud to his enhanced ears. "I would very much like to see..." He said, still nearly silent, before he caught himself. A Feeding, killing... here. Close to them. There was someone there. Perhaps the steps he had heard? It was a probable conjecture.

>> Get ready for a fight, Doc... << Yes, that seemed the probable outcome at the moment. How much he wanted those battle-rites right now. But it was no use thinking over spilled milk, so to speak. He focused the powers of his blood again. Downwards this time... deeper ever deeper. He called upon the earth, the rock, the stone... called upon all the things solid and immovable. Protection and Strength grant me, he thought as he invoked. protection and strength.... protection...... and..... strength....

[Thaumaturgy -- Elemental Strength] When it was finished, he tried again the hearing excercise from before, trying to catch a sound, every kind of sound, which would lead his eyes to see. And in the back of his mind he was already preparing for the flames... the burning. It was good that nobody else was here -- the Masquerade would not be breached if he called upon the most visible power he possessed.
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Vanth
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Neonate
* * *
Well, that's me being triple-fucked right there.

Isaac van Buren had been undead long enough to realise that the myriad sparkles in Beardies' pale aura meant Trouble. Sparkles, swirlies and ripplies were all Bad News, even if they were ever-so-pretty to stare at.

Those three were a pack patrol, and from the looks of it they were prepping for a fight. They'd soon discover his Happy Meal and follow his trail from there, or so he reckoned. Fucking Shovelheads. So territorial over a bunch of ruins and Hobo Chops. He would have rolled his eyes if he wasn't terrified and excited at the same time. The hunter had become the hunted in this game, that might just last till sunset.

While hunched on the roof behind a low ridge of red bricks he unfolded a piece of crumpled paper (ironically, a flyer explaining the extent of the prohibited zone). He inked some words on it in bad handwriting, using capitals so that he might at least be comprehensible while using a hand that was far more used to the ease of keyboards. He then wrapped the paper around a loose brick, using colourful rubber bands that he'd nicked some time ago.

After wrapping the shadows around him using his Obfuscation Discipline, the Malkavian stood and chucked the brick towards the car with a high throw, sending it flying fast and hitting the font window, which cracked, leaving a large star in front of the driver's seat before it fell onto the hood, which dented and lost some paint.

When examined, the message read as follows:




YOU'VE GOT TO...
KNOW WHEN TO HOLD 'EM
KNOW WHEN TO FOLD 'EM
KNOW WHEN TO WALK AWAY
KNOW WHEN TO RUN

WHAT WILL IT BE, NODDIES?

I KNOW HOW TO PLAY





After the crash, Pádraig ó Dubhuir could hear the sound of running on the roof, followed by the distant rattle of a rain pipe on the far side of the apartment building. Leo, when she looked in the direction of the roof that the brick had been thrown from, could just about see the back of a tall but thin figure wearing black jeans and a black coat. It didn't take more than a second, though, before he'd ran out of sight and had disappeared into the darkness.

As far as Vanth was concerned, the game was on.
Edited by Vanth, Thursday, 29. August 2013, 23:23.
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TapestryofShame
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Queen of Love (wut?)
* * * * * *
She was glad that wasn't her car. She was also glad she didn't get back IN the car, and had opted for the chance to MOVE instead of be trapped behind the wheel. She had the brick before Dubhuir could, pulling the paper off and stretching it out with a quick glance over the taunting little message. Somehow, the colorful elastic bands ended up around her wrist instead of being discarded, all arranged according to the rainbow. OCD sometimes got the better of her. Well, she wasn't going to chase whoever threw the brick. They -wanted- that, which meant somewhere in the distance there was a wonderful little trap set for them... Or was it for them? Maybe someone's got their signals crossed as fuck.

"We're not Noddies. We should stay together."

She knew how to play too, and this wasn't her game. That whole walk away part was closer to home, because she wasn't going to leave Sawyer's body in an unguarded car. The brick against the drivers side had already proved that. She moved to stand infront of the car a little more to Sawyers side now, leaving the brick on the hood in case of need of impromtu weapons. Signore Dubhuir could make his own choices, but she hoped he didn't run off and get in trouble somewhere. They needed to stay together, rule number 1. She didn't want to have to go bail him out somewhere, and she didn't want to lose his hands here to bail out Sawyer and herself incase of trouble... She'd need to be on guard more though, because the fact she missed knocking the brick out of the air alarmed her. She usually heard things like that, her senses were sharp as a scapel when in the field, either the brick had been thrown from to far away at great strength, or she was getting -soft-. That thought didn't sit well with her, and she fueled that little extra edge of blood into her Perception, heightening it in preparation for whatever came next. She loved the feeling of burning blood, like her entire body heated marginally as tingles shot to fingers and toes.



Edited by TapestryofShame, Friday, 30. August 2013, 00:02.
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"I thought... I thought that Mexico had chased such grand musings from my heart. That I wouldn't attempt to live so bold and that I would slide away into shadows. Standing here... the silence is so loud with potential I am deafened." - Upon entering the concrete shell that would become, Muse.
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Frederick
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Whispered Poison
* * * *
The crash of the brick hitting the front window of the car was enough to make Pádraig cover his ears protectively with his hands. ouch, ouch, ouch he thought. And even though it had been only safety glass involved. No splinters, no sharp edges. But... the noise. Ouch. There was a bit of loss of concentration involved as well. So no more elemental strength. That kindof fizzled out with advent of some nice little drilling bits forcing their way into his skull. Nasty, nasty Kindred.

Who, as Pádraig noted with an interested eye as he got over cringing and ear-protection, was probably a little bit shaken up in the china cupboard. A bit hazelnutty flavored. Had a bird. Something akin those lines. He, on the other hand, had a Toreador in an Armani costume. Which was so much better than a nutty vampire of unknown sectarian persuasion. Oh, he also had a rather mentally absent Nosferatu, who was at present probably fascinated by the aroma of rotting dogfood or something. He was glad the Toreador suggested staying. In the present clime it was indeed the most prudent step to take. "I agree." Said the small Irishman with a sage nod therefore. "Though I would..." very, very much... "...like to see that corpse." Considering where they were though, that desire suffered the quite sudden fate of a badly made soufflé. Pffffft... fizzled out.
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Alarik
"Papers, Please."
* * * * * * *
Sniffing through the ruins of Camden while in the body of a tiny white mouse was an interesting endeavour. Small things seemed huge. Huge things were of a scope where they were easily missed.

While tripping through the dark of the night this second time, Sawyer stumbled upon the broken remains of a porcelain puppet collection, the sharp edges of a pale-blue cheek almost cutting into one of its tiny feet. He also found a discarded, dust-covered Nirvana t-shirt, an empty bucket and a small dried-out pool of (by the smell of it) hobo piss, some fifty metres from the original body.

Indeed, Sawyer might have thought it better to turn back if he had not suddenly smelled the exquisite scent of Gouda cheese, wafting from the platform upon which it had been placed. This platform, it turned out, was a spring-loaded bar mousetrap.
Edited by Alarik, Sunday, 1. September 2013, 11:25.
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Sawyer
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* * * * * *
Sawyer tore himself out of the mind of the mouse milliseconds before the trap broke its neck with a sickening snap.

That had been close. Too close, and too sloppy, and the mark of a fuckin' amateur. There was a reason he hated using animalism, damn it; his impulse control sucked normally, and it sure as hell didn't improve when his brain was reduced to the size of a walnut.

Cursing angrily at his own ineptitude and still reeling from the prospect of imminent death, he gazed around the Ford's interior and immediately noticed the spiderweb of broken glass spreading across the car's windshield.

"What the hell-"

O'Dubhuir and Leo were standing a few yards away, attention riveted on the roof of a nearby apartment building. His ears twitched absently, trying to make out snippets of their conversation. No luck. Nearly silently, Sawyer exited the car and joined them, frowning. His voice was scarcely above a whisper. "Didn't find anything near the body. Whoever it was, they've moved on. As, uh, our windshield would prob'ly attest to."
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TapestryofShame
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Queen of Love (wut?)
* * * * * *
"Someone accused us of being Noddies, from the wind shield smash. If you found nothing, perhaps we could move on to another area? We've found on for sure body with signs of Kindred machinations, let's see if there's more further on. There wasn't anything more of note around the body?"

She would spend all day on one dead man. Afterall, how many dead bodies did vampires leave around every night? They needed to go on to more interesting territory. This was just a scouting mission, unless something significant came up. She moved, still on alert to side step around the car back to the drivers seat. The spiderweb crack across the wind shield would provide a wonderful view. UGH. Whoever the fuck that was, she wanted to run them over. She could not abide by senseless damage to nice vehicles. Crappy Chevy trucks, yeah, beat the shit out of them... but a generally nice smooth ride, it seemed rude!
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"I thought... I thought that Mexico had chased such grand musings from my heart. That I wouldn't attempt to live so bold and that I would slide away into shadows. Standing here... the silence is so loud with potential I am deafened." - Upon entering the concrete shell that would become, Muse.
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Frederick
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Whispered Poison
* * * *
"Concur." The simple word was all the Tremere had to offer to this bit of planning. Though he would both like too see the body of the person -- human... thing... and would like to see Mr Smash-your-Windshield have a sudden episode of smash-your-face. But he was not here for wanting. He was here for providing magical backup for a scouting mission and so a scouting mission this would be.


He entered the car again... again at the back, where he seated himself, waiting for one of the others to take over the abominable thing called a steering wheel. He was, as he had said earlier, wholesomely unable to make use of these things. Who needed a car after all, if one had ghouls that was.
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Renard
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Master Chief

They entered the car and continued through the streets, keeping their eyes out for unusual sights, or at least as unusual as it got after having the whole area wracked with an earthquake. Their driver steered the car carefully, keeping the speed slow in case the street had been undermined so they would have at least a small time frame should the road collapse and trap the car. It would also allow for more easy observation.

They passed buildings in different states of being. Most were cracked on the outside but still mostly intact while others were in a worse state with a few solid walls still standing and rubble filling the gaps. Although the streets had been cleared of rubble, there were still some obstacles their car had to be guided around carefully. No sign of life was to be seen, the streets abandoned, the only movement they saw being that of the police tape in some entrances that was moving with the occasional gust of wind. And yet, the felt as if someone was watching them move through the foreign territory... Had they already been recognized as intruders and were now being followed to be ambushed at a convenient place ? Observed to learn more about what they wanted here ? Or was it really 'just' either another source of discomfort, perhaps only their paranoia and nerves giving way and acting up under the stress of constant vigilance ?

Coming around a corner, they suddenly saw themselves confronted by a former police roadblock, crudely reinforced with rubble and pieces of tarmac. Perhaps they would be able to break through, perhaps they would not. The pavement looked like a possible way, but it was rather narrow due to rubble lying on it in piles and the way would not be too easy to navigate. Turning back was an option, as was going back in reverse, even if that meant getting back on the way they had come from. As soon as they spotted the obstacle, they also saw that there was a figure jumping onto the barricade and some other movement, the source of which was not easy to determine. The small man now standing on top of the barricade was a pale, very gaunt figure with a long coat that was covered in blood and various colours of gunk. He pointed a flashlight at the windscreen directly at where the driver would be located.

"And who in the name of fuck might you clowns be ?" he shouted.
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Verba docent, exempla trahunt !
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TapestryofShame
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Queen of Love (wut?)
* * * * * *
She slid in behind the wheel reluctantly, sliding the backpack over onto Sawyers lap so he could manage the goods inside if need be, although she kept the machete jammed down the side of the door as it closed. She wanted it to be on hand if she needed, a simple cross reach to pull it free. In the bag was a bottle of Vitae, and two molotov cocktails, one lighter, a switch blade, a small roll of razor wire, a heavy duty spatula, a sling shot, and a bag of marbles. With the mice as well, that had been all she could fit in the bag.

Seeing through the cracked screen wasn't to difficult, once she put the seat up as high as it could be raised. She was short, and she normally had her own seats specially placed for her unusually diminutive stature. This would do for now, as she adjusted all her mirrors to compensate. They rolled along gentley, but at the appearance of the road block she narrowed her perception to scan along the streets. The man appearing admist the rubble made her slow, and she brought the car to a stop with a flashed glance to Sawyer in the passengers side. If she waited, it wouldn't work, so she left the keys in the car and opened the door, leaving the machete behind. It would look... opposite to what she was going to try and do.

"Who the fuck might I be? I'm your worst nightmare if you don't smarten up that god damned mouth Boyo. We're here doing recon, the Bishop wants to know who the fucks left in this crap heap before the stupid cammies decide to come in and take it. So far ain't got much for numbers going on, so don't be a pen coc and get in the car. You can help with the census, or I'll let Makie know you were a cont about it."

She ditched the Italian accent, and the American one, and played up a full out nonchalant Welsh performance. She also didn't use any disciplines with it, because there were... other things in the shadows. She had seen the movement. She didn't need to tip anything in the darkness off that she wasn't being genuine. Where she had issues with lying in her own Sect, all those issues flew out the window when it came to these mother fucking pieces of shit. She had zero tolerance for Sabbat anymore, where as once upon a time she had nearly been a sympathizer. Now she wanted them to burn. Burn like they had burned her, strip their flesh in long thin lines of skin and choke them out with it. There was no amount of torture that could make up for Hanks mutilation, her own torture... and Mysty's death. God, she could never hurt them enough for what they had made her do. She wore the blood, but they wore the blame. Somehow, it made her still inside to think about that. Instead of sending her off the handle, the memories cooled her fires and kept her calm and relaxed.

Revenge was best served cold, cold and calculated. Maybe with some monologuing! Or not. The muse would let her know.
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"I thought... I thought that Mexico had chased such grand musings from my heart. That I wouldn't attempt to live so bold and that I would slide away into shadows. Standing here... the silence is so loud with potential I am deafened." - Upon entering the concrete shell that would become, Muse.
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Sawyer
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Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
* * * * * *
The smell of gasoline wafted out from inside the backpack. Molotov cocktails? Huh, the Toreador had certainly come prepared, but he really didn't want to have a reason to use those. No, instead, he just tried to look as... antitribu... as possible, fixing his face into a truly unnerving, decayed scowl. He'd leave the talking to the signore- she seemed to know what the hell she was doing as she addressed the new arrival.

Sawyer tried his damnedest to keep his face passive when she claimed they were there on Makie's orders. He certainly hoped that she'd bet correctly and that mentioning the archbishop would work in their favor. He'd only glimpsed the Lasombra once himself, in the process of jumping that unfortunate Brujah dumbass in Brent; whether she still held any sway among remains of the Sabbat, he couldn't say. That aside, though, Leo struck quite the imposing figure with her faux Welsh accent and blustering attitude of sheer badassery. Sawyer could only whistle in appreciation and cross his fingers that her bluff would succeed.

As she waited for the gaunt, bloodsoaked figure on the barricade to respond, Sawyer tried to make out the rest of their surroundings, a task made difficult by the blinding flashlight aimed at Leo. He thought he could see some movement in the distance, but he couldn't be sure. If this guy had brought company... well, he'd stay ready for a fight, in any case, but he'd prefer one on their own terms.

"Doc?" Sawyer inquired in a barely audible voice. "You see anything movin' around in those shadows? Or, ah, any weird movin' shadows? Either's sorta bad news for us, really."
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Frederick
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Whispered Poison
* * * *
He wanted to sigh. Actually: He did sigh.
Because there had to be a rodablock with vampires. Had. To. Be. They also had to be nasty goddamn heretics. His intelligent mind was up and about asking the wonderfully informative question "Why am I doing this again?" on repeat.

The shadows were moving though. That got a rather distantly intested huff out of him. "Yes, Mr. Sawyer, I am doing what I can." He said with a slight amount of exasperation at the small Nosferatu. (Relatively speaking. He was still a lot smaller.) He sniffed at the man. And blinked twice against the strong smell of fossil fuel assaulting his nostrils. At that point his beast was spinning around in his head. Fumes.. fumes are bad.

He shimmied closer to the door. Not. Nervous. Thank you, very much!. Grabbed the handle. (What? Not Nervous!) Just as a precaution. And then he enhanced his eyesight with the power of his blood. If necessary he would use aura sight as well. Because some shadows were more persistent than others. Sawyer could probably say something about that.

The doorgrip was cool plastic in his hand. The hand was not shaking. It would be needed soon.
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Renard
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Master Chief

Matt looked down at the car and especially at the girl that had just gotten out. Now there were about several things that this could be... Greenies, Cams, Anarchs or some other shits strolling around in an area that they didn't belong. The state of the car pretty much excluded Greenies and the rest was pretty much some guys that needed a good slapping, one way or the other. Listening to the kids little speech filled him with anticipation even more. The sheer boldness of it, just coming here and simply assuming throwing some names around would make sure they would be all nice and obedient, was already telling him that this would be good !

The shadows around the car were devoid of motion, but still, there was the feeling of someone in the vicinity. Watching, waiting, simply biding time until something happened that changed the situation enough to disvulge who or what caused this. However, this something hadn't happened yet so there was still not much to be seen but the rubble and houses at the side of the road, even the police tape had stopped moving, as if it also awaited what would happen in front of the car soon. Very soon. Too soon ? Padraig was able to make out two figures in the shadows of buildings in the vicinity, one on their 4 o' clock position, one on the 7 o' clock position. Shortly he thought he had seen some movement behind the barricade as well, but he wasn't completely sure about that. Perhaps is was nothing more than some rubble shifted by the goons weight. Or was it ?

In any case, these mongrels had to be made aware what was going on and Matt was more than happy to provide that exposition ! He pulled the coat back a bit, exposing a heavy hammer and a hatchet, just in case. But he hoped that these stupid wastes of blood would stay... for dinner.

"I ain't getting in no car because some lapdog bitch tells me to... Why dont you go home to those stupid cunts and tell them they can sod off and shove their headcount ? Alternatively, we could do it as well if you don't piss off quickly !"

A sharp whistle was enough to make two figures appear at the right end of the barricade and a third on the left one, taking up some sort of position, sharing some curious and perhaps uneasy looks between the car, Leo and themselves before focusing on the guys encroaching on their turf. A distance of about twenty feet separated the two groups, the ground not difficult terrain but with the occasional piece of rubble on it, but with most of the home team partially behind the obstacle and most of the others still in the car... What would happen ?
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Verba docent, exempla trahunt !
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TapestryofShame
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Queen of Love (wut?)
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Stupid would happen, duh. What else could be expected?

Dark eyes scanned the terrain upon which the others were stationed, flickering over rubble and ruins under their feet as she gauged where any mines or pit falls might be. She had a clear path, they were around the edges. Perfect, attention to details was her specialty. She grinned in an impish sort of way at Matt, and drew herself up to the highest of her just under five foot height as she slipped away from the car, leaving the drivers door open as if she expected to just turn around and get right back in.

She then trod her path directly towards them, summoning every inch of that piece of rage Dakon had scarred into her soul. She was small, and softly scultped with make up and dressed finely... but underneath that sleek mask of false femininity was a raging little beast that wanted to rip and tear and maim. When she brought it to the surface, the creature within shivered under her skin in a violent sort of way, and it resonated on the surface with an expression of smooth calm humor. She had balls the size of Nebraska, as her aides didn't appear to be getting out of the car and rushing to her side anytime soon.

"Look, you little pen coc, I don't have time for your dirty mouth or your little goonies. You can help me, or you can ... Suffer my wrath. I'm the next Bishop under the Archbishop in town you little focking cont. What will it be?"

She didn't intimidate with fangs and hissing in this instance, she intimidated by cold fearless prickery. [Presence - Dread Gaze] She fueled that blood beneath the surface, felt the warm glow that spread to fingers and toes as she prepared to move at the speed that had been beaten into the fibres of her being by ancient, emotionless hands. She had been his canvas, her body his to make and break. That usual thrill of fear made her skin prickle, and her heart beat stopped dead in its cage as her humanity receeded. It really didn't matter what Matt said, but she really hoped he said something lippy and beautiful. Perhaps if an example could be made of him well enough, the others would... simply fall in line? Hey, could she actually step in as Bishop? The stake tucked up either sleeve was a hard, cool reminder of past violence. She was trying to keep herself on a leash, remain cordial and not fall completely into chaotic nature that lay under her skin.
Edited by TapestryofShame, Wednesday, 18. September 2013, 21:32.
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"I thought... I thought that Mexico had chased such grand musings from my heart. That I wouldn't attempt to live so bold and that I would slide away into shadows. Standing here... the silence is so loud with potential I am deafened." - Upon entering the concrete shell that would become, Muse.
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Frederick
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Whispered Poison
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He got out of the car quickly, motons of a litheness thet betrayed his small frame, the eyes trained on the shadows around them. Someone there... obfuscate?.. he thought, before he attempted yet a second time to pierce the cloak of shadows around them with his discipline. At the same time he hissed at Sawyer from between clenched teeth:

"One on four and one on seven..."

He positioned himself slightly behind Leo and off to one side, the stance open and easy. He did not seem tense at all, which was, quite obviously, impossible in this kind of situation... unless perhaps, you were Malkavian and deluding yourself into thinking the street of rubble was a bed of flowers really.

He was not Malkavian, so no... no delusions.

Instead there was a cold readiness emanating from the small man with the open stance. Inviting somehow, that height of his. What could such a small person do after all? It was not like he was an actual threat...
Leos words were recieved with equianimity... just as if they had always been expected. Inside there was certain turmoil though. What does that rose think she is doing? Shes not a Brujah of course to rush headlong into things... at least I think that that is true? I certainly hope so... for our sakes.
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Irish, English, Greek, Latin, Scottish, German
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Sawyer
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Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
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Sawyer kept his eyes carefully on the triumvirate of figures, and when he was confident that their attention was firmly placed on the ballsy Toreador, he vanished, creeping out of the open driver's side door. Doc seemed to have the right flank under control, and while Sawyer hated the idea of missing O'Dubhuir's fiery show, he decided he'd haul ass and take the figure on the left by surprise, if possible.

Stealthily, he made his way behind the car, checking the horizon for any more hidden 'friends'. No sign of further company, yet. Carefully listening for any further direction from Leo, he approached his target as silently as possible before falling still as a statue.

Hope you know what you're doin', ma'am...
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Dialogue color = #9F4438
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Renard
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Master Chief

Matt felt his anger rise up as this bithc tried to make him into her pet simply by threatning him. However, something else was also rising. Was that... a small hint of fear ? She talked very much with the tone of someone who was well able to back those things up and the sheer confidence and menace she was radiating made him uneasy. It even made him consider getting away and returning with some friends later. But no. He would not run, he would show them that they would not bow to some fancy title in this part of town. That was what they were fighting for, after all. Freedom.

Leo noticed the small signs of hesitation that had not been there before, and that were slowly dying down again.

"Bring it, bitch..." He responded in a confident tone that was masking his insecurity about the situation to most observers. The rest of what he said was swallowed up by the darkness that oozed out of the small shadows on the ground, creeping out of the gaps between the pieces of rubble and the shadows around them spreading and reaching out for those who dared defy the principles of the Sabbat and expected to live. Street lights, other lights, even the stars themselves were extinguished by the veil of darkness, the cloud that formed around them, choking out every bit of light, muffling the sounds until there was nothing but darkness and silence around them. Darkness, silence and... something else ? The murk was surrounding them like pitch, making it harder to move, almost as if it was actively constricting them. Wasn't there the feeling of something like a small tendril at their ankles ? It was weird to feel the substance of the darkness, some actual weight on ones body, weighing them down and caressing them with a cold, almost slimy touch, as if it was trying to get into their bodies, whatever was left of their lungs and just... spread from there.

The Tremere could make out the figures of the Toreador in the dark, but there was no sign of the Nosferatu to be seen. the barricade and the rough outlines of those behind it were also kind of distinguishable for him with some effort, staying at their places almost looking as if they were... hurling things into the cloud ? One figure jumped at the one that was most likely the Toreador, then he saw it coming, a dark spot closing in quicker and quicker. It looked almost like a big stone. Then it whizzed past him. But then, others were following as the barricade guys pounded the dark with cobblestones, while one ran off to a nearby building.
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Verba docent, exempla trahunt !
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TapestryofShame
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Queen of Love (wut?)
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She would respond as soon as he called her a bitch, letting the blood that was burning through her body with its sweet warmth propel her. She knew he would be strong, but she doubted he would be stronger than she was unless he was quite old. She had physical, bodily strength on her side as well as supernatural aide. Her body had been beaten, broken, and remolded into a lithe creature of muscle and tone. It's why she was so androgynous, what little curve nature had given her had been trimmed off and shucked to the wind in favor of speed and strength. Sometimes she was sad she couldn't play a feminine lady without stuffing a bra and wearing cuts that gave her false curve to the hip, but it was the lesser experienced times like these where she was glad of her athletic form.


The stake slipped into her hand from in her sleeve, and she moved with the descending darkness that was slipped out of him. Fuck that, he was going to screw over her counterparts doing their thing, whatever that thing may be. She needed to clear his shadow magic, and send the Abyss back to where he summoned it from to give Dubhuir and Sawyer a clear path. That exceptionally acute hearing and sight would give her an edge in the dim, and the speed at which she traveled was like a marble being released from a taught sling shot. The beast within her prickled against the inside of her skin, it's immortal prison, pins and needles electrifying her senses in the most brilliant sensation she had felt in a long time. She held the stake infront of her, so that she was gripping with her left and her right was flat and open against the wide blunt rear, braced against her body as she leapt. The strength and momentum in her body would carry her.

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"I thought... I thought that Mexico had chased such grand musings from my heart. That I wouldn't attempt to live so bold and that I would slide away into shadows. Standing here... the silence is so loud with potential I am deafened." - Upon entering the concrete shell that would become, Muse.
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Renard
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Master Chief

The stake readied in her hand, ready to strike, Leo sped towards the figure in front of her as if propelled forward by a coiled spring. She felt something whizzing past her, barely grazing her, but her target was quickly coming nearer now, mostly unsuspecting of what was about to happen. His weapons at the ready, Matt had entered the cloud, looking for this Bishop bitch to show her what he thought about her talking smack to him in front of his subordinates. Heh, she would be a nice addition to his trophy rack, so much was for sure ! Now he just needed to make sur he didn't accidentally dust her before the real fun could-

What the fuck was that ?

He saw some kind of shadow fly towards him, but instead of instantly dodging he made the mistake of trying to gauge what was coming for him there. This cost Matt precious fractions of seconds that could have been put to use. That way, when he finally recognized that it was not only a prson, but a person holding a stake and not only that, but also the person he had been looking for, it was too late. He tried to bring his weapons up to deflect thie attack, but he was too slow to be able to do that. With a sickening crunch, the stake entered the Sabbat's chest and almost completly vanished in it, much of the tip exiting through his back, breaking ribs in the process.

The tools of his trade still firmly gripped, his face frozen in the state between surprise and dawning horror, the Sabbat simply fell to the ground as the sharp and seemingly endless sting of pain finally gave way to a darkness that outmatched the one he had been in just a moment ago.
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Verba docent, exempla trahunt !
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